Run, Whirlwind Run
by Fibre Optics
Summary: Everyone will remember you when you're gone,  Your heart is a stone,  Buried underneath your pretty clothes


**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognise in this story, I don't own (much to my disappointment)

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><p><strong>Run, Whirlwind Run<strong>

Most people think it's your father who's responsible for a lot of your issues. Sure, his condescending nature has had an ill-effect on your life, but it's your mother you blame. She's the one who packed up her bags and left you and your dad at home, "Sorry, Jadey," the messy handwriting on piece of paper ripped from a corner of a notebook read, "But I couldn't be stifled any longer." It's not like you didn't see it coming, you'd always been more aware of the world around you than your parents realised. The arguments that ran late into the night were a dead giveaway.

The conflict first started when your parents took you to your first play, _Peter Pan_. To you it was a magical night. The storyline was stupid and corny, and constantly caused you to roll your piercing blue eyes. But the way that people were able to transform themselves to make you believe they were actually a young boy who ran away from home to never return, or an evil captain of a pirate ship, had you transfixed. Maybe one day you'd be the one up on stage, basking in the applause of the audience as they stared at you in awe. Apparently similar feelings were instilled in your mother, as that night you overheard her complaining that your father had never let her pursue her dreams of being on stage, and how he had "killed off every little bit of creativity" in her body.

When you approached your parents the day after the play and requested to be allowed to take acting lessons, your father had replied, "Don't waste your time on a silly little hobby like that." By the next day your mum had enrolled you in acting, singing, _and_ dancing lessons, just to spite her husband. Of course you found yourself loving the hour or two after school each day when you'd have the chance to perform. The fact that you were the best student of all your classes also enhanced your enjoyment. Some days you would return from the lessons and perform to your mother, who would shower you in praise. "You're so talented, Jadey, my little brown haired angel."

Sure you understood why she left your father, but why she cut off all contact with even you was what left you heart broken. Maybe your father didn't respect any of your dreams and passions, but at least he didn't abandon you and leave you with a conceited man who couldn't even cook himself dinner, let alone look after a ten year old girl.

Of course, Maria West claims to have only been doing what was best for the family, and did return to you when you were thirteen. But your family was to broken to repair, and you had changed from the pink tutu wearing 'angel' you were three years ago. Whenever you find yourself feeling some form of affection for you mother, you think of watching her back walking away into the sun without you, and the emotions vanish.

/

You can remember the first time you saw him, although you'd never tell him that because he'd call you sappy and it would put a tiny chip in the wall around your heart. You would claim to remember the moment as a simply a trivial point of your life, while he would reason that it was because his looks were so "unforgettable" (that may have played a small part in it). It was during the summer before freshman year, and it was required of all the students who had just graduated from middle school and were continuing on to Hollywood Arts to somehow take part in a production. In the corner of the buzzing classroom you were slumped in a chair, half tuned in to the babbling red head next to you.

"…and then the chicken said to the cow 'I'm feeling a little peckish'" Cat finished before almost falling off her chair in peals of laughter. You sighed and glanced down at your chunky black watch, counting down the minutes until the rehearsal began. The day had not started well, with your dad dropping you off an hour early in order to arrive at work on time. You had been stuck dealing with some curly haired gangly twerp wearing glasses who tried hitting on you. But after you stepped on his toes and gave him a classic 'Jade' glare, he backed away.

The door of the classroom opened with a squeak, and your eyes which were gazing at the ground directed themselves toward the door. Worn, grey combat boots were the first thing that you saw of the boy who had casually entered the room. As your gaze rose, you felt that small flip in your stomach that you feel whenever you see a handsome guy. Man, did that boy have some nice hair. Of course, this boy wearing a red plaid shirt didn't linger in your mind; you'd seen plenty of hot people before, he wasn't ground breaking news. The moment you had been waiting for arrived as a man with crazy hair who was wearing very peculiar clothes and no shoes wandered up onto the small stage near the window of the room. The cacophony of young, chatty teenagers came to a halt. He started scratching his head, and it seemed as if he thought he had forgotten something. You heard him mumble something about a coconut as he rushed over to a cupboard.

"Look at his clothes! Their so creative," Cat whispered in your ear.

Briskly you turned back to her and snapped "It looks like a thrift store vomited out all of the ugliest clothes on its racks and shoved them on a half bald guy." You weren't in the mood for bright chirpy artificially red heads.

The man finally turned to face the mish mash of students with a slightly disappointed look on his face. "Unfortunately the coconut I thought I left here last week has mysteriously disappeared. But despite the tragedy, I suppose we must go on," he sighed. "I am Sikowitz, and without the aid of my coconut I won't even attempt to remember all of your names. The reason all of you ducklings are here is so we can put on a wonderful performance. But who shall be the performers? You," he motion to the spot where you were sitting in a corner, "Sour looking girl wearing the black dress with streaks in your hair. Get up on stage and perform something."

"Why?" You questioned, your voice tinged slightly with a negative attitude. It was an automatic response for you to want to do the opposite of whatever somebody told you to.

"Because to be awarded a part in a play or musical, one must first audition for a role. So, it's time for you to audition." He answered. Seeing as you were sure you'd get a main part in the performance, you walked up to the stage with an air of confidence. The sound of your black boots hitting the ground echoed around the room as everybody watched you in silence.

You arrived at the stage and stood right in the middle of it, devoid of any nerves. You knew that this was where you were born to be, what you were born to do. "I'm Jade West," was the only thing you spoke in your loud, authoritative voice, you'd decided to let the singing do the talking. Then, you delivered a perfect a cappella rendition of _Number One_ by Ginger Fox (your singing lessons had paid off), because you felt it would define your place in the class perfectly. As you finished, you felt the rush that you felt after every performance. Who needed drugs when you could have a natural high? A small smirk appeared on your face as you scanned the astonished faces of the crowd. None of them were going to be forgetting you or your talent any time soon.

/

The first time you ever spoke to Beck Oliver was on the way to a rehearsal for the summer performance (in which you had been cast as the lead role) when you stopped into a tiny café down a small laneway in order to buy your morning coffee. You were wearing large, round sunglasses, a drapey black dress with a lace back and short ankle boots. The thick hair which usually flowed down your back was restrained in a bun. He was lazily leaning against the counter as if he wasn't expecting any expecting any customers, and he was fiddling with the rings around his tan fingers.

"Aren't you a bit young to be working here?" You questioned, surprisingly finding yourself actually interested in hearing the answer.

"Probably, but my parents own the place. I try to claim that its child labour, but they say if I deem myself responsible enough to live in my own RV then I'm old enough to help them out in the shop," He replied with an award winning smile. Your expression remained blank, seemingly inattentive to what he had to say (although the part about his parents owning a coffee shop intrigued you). "Hey, you're going to Hollywood Arts this year, aren't you?" He asked you, as if he had never paid you any attention before. This earned him a scowl from your direction. Obviously he was only acting as if he didn't remember you; you were unforgettable. "Jane, right?" he tried to recall your name. A small incredulous laugh escaped from your lips, the least he could do was call you by the right name. With a small shake of your head, you smoothly turned around to exit the café, not in the mood to mess around (you never were before your morning coffee).

Just as you were about to push the door open, the boy called out to your back. "Wait! I know the service here is crappy, but the coffee's pretty good." You stopped while still facing the door and waited to see what he had to say next, one of your eyebrows raised. "Look, I'm not sure what I've done to annoy you, but I'll make it up to you with a free coffee." After that statement, you slowly spun around on the spot. To ensure he wouldn't back out of his promise, you narrowed your eyes. What surprised you was that instead of cowering in fear under your intense stare, he just started clicking some buttons and dials on the espresso machine.

"Black with two sugars," you snarled at him. Even if he was being rude, there was almost no situation you could think of where you'd turn down a free coffee. "And my name's Jade. Get it right next time."

For some reason you let the charming, handsome boy whose name you learnt was Beck Oliver, walk with you to Hollywood Arts. Maybe it was because the coffee was so good, or maybe it was because you found your stomach constantly doing that annoying flippy thing, especially when Beck commented that he thought your audition was fantastic.

/

Every morning after that for a fortnight you would stop into the coffee shop Beck's family owned on your way to Hollywood Arts, and every morning Beck would make you a black coffee with two sugars before walking you to rehearsals. It surprisingly became the best part of your day, even overhauling the times when you were up on stage performing. He knew how to deal with your mood swings and melodrama, which was astonishing when the fact that he barely knew you was considered. Beck wasn't afraid to stand up to you; more than often he would counter your snide remarks with an equally witty response. Although he knew not to push you too far, and your 'heated discussions' would rarely transform into a fight. You found out that his passion was acting and his favourite colour red, and he discovered that you had an irrational love of scissors (how could anybody resist the shiny, shiny blades that reflected the disappointment of the world). And any girl at rehearsals who flirted with Beck by praising his perfect hair or muscular physique soon learnt how cruel you could really be.

Prior to the final rehearsal before the performance, you arrived at the quaint shop earlier than usual. When you sashayed through the door, Beck was standing unsuspecting behind the counter reading some colourful magazine about cars. He looked up from his magazine, and a wide smile appeared on his face when he laid his eyes on you. "Jade! You're here early." Immediately he started the machine to make your coffee, knowing that it was best to get caffeine into your system before even attempting a conversation. "I like that shirt you're wearing," he commented, referring to the loose black tank top you wore over a cobalt blue camisole. "It's nice. You look… nice in it."

"Wow. Isn't your vocabulary extensive today," you remarked sarcastically. Get some guts, you wanted to shout at him, and just say what you actually think.

His eyes rolled at your sarcasm, "What are you, an English teacher?" he joked awkwardly to try and get out of the hole he had dug himself. You just raised your eyebrow. "Fine. I guess what I was going to say is that you kind of look beautiful today," he declared boldly.

"Oh, and I don't every other day, huh?" You quickly snapped. Although his comment made you look down at you shoes to hide the fact that you were trying to resist the corner of your mouth twitching up into a smile. He handed you the cardboard mug full of deliciousness, and you continued on your way to the rehearsal.

Due to the spare time you had, you both cut through a park on the way. You're not sure how, but you both ended up on the ground laughing more than you'd laughed in years. Beck's presence could be felt to the right of you, and you both just lay on the ground giggling. The strange shapes of the stark white clouds against the blue sky had you transfixed, and you were feeling so happy and calm that you only noticed Beck edging closer and closer to you after he pressed his warm lips to yours and kissed you. Your eyes widened for a second before shutting after you settled into the kiss, your arms snaking behind his back and his hands running through your hair.

You were both unprofessionally late for rehearsal, and it didn't get past anybody that for once you actually had a grin on your face. Of course nobody commented on it, otherwise they may have found themselves unfit to perform that evening.

/

The performance was fantastic, which is to be expected from a bunch of talented and passionate teens. Nobody could stop talking about you; you had executed every line perfectly and sung your solo without one note out of key. You knew what they were all saying, "She's the most talented girl of the class," "She's going to go far." After the final bows when you were standing up on stage with the bright lights shining in your eyes and warming your face, you glanced into the audience and saw your mother. She wasn't cheering like everybody else; she was looking at you with unmasked jealousy (you hadn't inherited your jealous streak from your father). You knew she hadn't returned to you out of love, but because her dreams failed. She couldn't accept that because of certain mistakes she had made in her life, you were going to have more of a chance of succeeding than she ever did.

Back in the dressing rooms, everybody was still feeling high from the performance and jumping around like maniacs. Even you were smiling. Beck came up to you and wrapped his tan arms around in an embrace. "You're so talented, Jade. Like an angel," he whispered in your ear with so much sincerity it scared you. Somebody had spoken that phrase to you before, and too soon after they'd left you. Beck placed a soft kiss on the side of your head and walked away. Who were you kidding? Somebody as cool and kind hearted as Beck would never _actually_ like you. Or even if he did, once he really got to know you, he'd grow sick of you demanding and possessive nature. It was inevitable, it had happened before and it would happen again. Things would be so much easier if you just ended everything now, stomped on your feelings and supressed them by all means possible. Because a small crush turning out badly hurt for a couple of days, but if your heart was broken it would last a lifetime. Going through life with a heart of stone was the best way to avoid real anguish. It wasn't cowardly (well, not really), only practical.

But you'd never been the most courageous person, so you couldn't face explaining to Beck why you two would never work out. The best way around it was to show him that you _really_ weren't the type of person he'd want to date. That was your reasoning behind why you were hiding in a corner at the wrap party, making out with Ryder Daniels who'd been helping out with the performance for extra credit. It wasn't the same as when Beck had kissed you that morning, the tingle that had travelled from your lips to the tip of your toes was absent. The way Ryder was smiling at you when you came up for air was a smirk of victory, completely different to the friendly grin of the boy who could have stolen your heart. You glanced over the shoulder of the cocky older boy and saw Beck approaching you. He came up behind Ryder and softly grasped your arm that was placed on Ryder's back. Gracefully pushing Ryder out of the way, Beck pulled you outside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You screeched. Nobody manhandled you without your permission, even if your body was screaming out for Beck's touch.

"What the hell do you think _you're_ doing?" He spat right back, seeming agitated. "Just yesterday you were telling me what a narcissistic bastard you thought Ryder Daniels was. Is this about what happened this morning? Did I do something wrong? I thought that maybe… Maybe you actually cared about me."

"I'm not the kind of person you want to date," you replied darkly. Why was he making it so hard?

"And how do you know anything about my dating preferences? I thought you were different to how others viewed you. But I guess I was mistaken."

"Then what are we out here for?"

"Are you really interested in Ryder? Or are you just trying to run away from me, from how you feel?" He questioned, his brown eyes staring at you intently. Nobody had actually questioned you like that before, and you weren't sure how to respond. There was silence for a couple of moments as you tried to form your reply, the only sounds you could hear were the deep breaths you were both taking.

"I… I just… I don't know if I can do it. I really like you, I do. And…" You slowly started to string some words together. Maybe it would be different with Beck, maybe he wouldn't leave you.

"It's not hard. I'll help you. All you have to do it turn up at the cinema's, I'll take you to a movie, buy some popcorn. Just give it a go. Please. I think my chances of finding a girl like you ever again are slim." His smooth voice had calmed down and was damn near irresistible. Your blue eyes framed in dark eyeliner looked up through your long eyelashes. Slowly Beck started approaching you, and you found your feet moving nearer and nearer to his. He kissed your lips softly and you stood there confused, trying to figure out how you had let your guard down and let this sweet boy into your heart.

Only the stars and the moon were there to witness the moment when you decided maybe love wasn't as evil or destructive as you'd thought.

**a/n: So this is the first fan fiction I've written, and I know there so much I could improve on. But after having read other's stories for ages, I decided to give writing my own a go. So any advice/ideas/comments would be appreciated so, so much. Both Jade and Beck may have been a bit out of character, and for that I apologize. After attempting to write my own fan fiction I know appreciate how hard it is to keep previously created characters true to their personality. I have some ideas for another chapter of this (or another one shot altogether), but if you think its best that I just leave this as it is, don't be afraid to say. The lyrics in the title/description are from the song _Girls Like You by The Naked and Famous_, which is the song that inspired me to write this. If you made it through this fic AND A/N without cringing extensively, thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed it xx**


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